Emma vs The Family Secret
by Alana B. Sherwood
Summary: Every family has their secrets. Emma Bartowski's family is no exception. But when a mysterious stranger hell-bent on revenge reveals the truth, Emma starts to question everything she thought she knew. Can she handle her parent's story? What they've done? Who they've killed? Sequel-of-sorts to "Chuck vs. Death", knowledge of the story is recommended but not necessary. T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm crazy. Totally and completely crazy. I have three AP classes, a Speech and Debate team to run, a quartet position to hold, and a job. Yes, a job. I'm as shocked as you are. So I'm starting a new story… yeah. All I can say is, and I'm so sorry about this, don't expect regular updates. It took me a week just to write this. But this idea has been in my head for a while, and it's all planned out, so I figured "What the hell?" (**_**Back to the Future**_**. Gotta love it.)**

**Anyway, I was inspired when my parents told me about their lives before me and my sister, and it turned out that they had both been married before they married each other. I just had this moment of "You guys had lives before you met? It wasn't always 'Mom and Dad'? There was a time of 'Mom and some stranger'? 'Dad with some stranger'?" It was a really strange moment, and they said "This is the family secret, now you know everything," and I thought "What if there's more?" So I related it to a family of secrets, and ta-da! This story was born! I hope you enjoy it!**

**Summary: Emma Bartowski knows her family has secrets, every family does, but is hers too much to handle? What happens when her parents past comes back to haunt her? Or when a certain someone comes back for revenge… again? (Crappy summary. My bad.)**

**Disclaimer: As much as it kills me, I don't own "Chuck".**

Emma was dreaming. She knew it, she had to be. She was old enough to tell the difference between dream and reality- after all, she's a big kid now. With her fifth birthday a little less than a month behind her, Emma was already living up to her age. She picked up behind herself. She rinsed her plate and placed it in the dishwasher after meals. And, unlike her three year-old baby cousin Marty, she didn't come crying to her parents every time she had a bad dream. Because she knew the difference. Because she is five now.

After fully convincing herself that everything happening around her isn't real, Emma decided to try to figure out what was actually going on. She remembered her mommy coming into her room, picking her up, and carrying her to the car. The memory was fuzzy though, as it always becomes when you try to remember the beginning of a dream. As Emma was dozing off in her booster seat (yes booster seat, not car seats, because car seats are for babies. Booster seats are for older kids. Like five year olds.) she noticed that she wasn't in her mommy's SUV or her daddy's Nerd Herder. She was in a dark van, with one side lined with a table and computers and flashing lights, and the other side lined with a door and two chairs, one of which she was sitting in. Soon, the side had slid open and her mommy climbed in, carrying Emma's shoes and a jacket. After her mommy dressed her, she sat next to Emma in the other chair and stoked her hair until she dozed off again. Emma was later jerked out of her haze when the car suddenly lurched forward, and she realized that they had parked outside of a strange building, with her mommy still sitting next to her and her daddy sitting in the driver's seat. He looked around through the windshield, and then covered the window with a shiny material before her climbed over the seat to kneel next to Emma.

"Hey baby," He said softly, gently sliding his hand down the side of her head.

"Hi Daddy," Emma replied sleepily as she slowly closed her eyes.

"Chuck, I don't like this," Her mommy said softly, "I don't like using her, I thought we were out of _the business_."

"We are Sarah," Her daddy replied as he fiddled around with the computer equipment. "It's just one last mission."

"_Never_ say 'one last mission'," Her mommy replied sternly.

"Sorry, but it will be. Besides, where else are we going to find the technology to finish the retraction device? And the security here is so tight; we need her to help us get past the coded doors. We need _it_."

"I know," Her mommy admitted in an almost defeated voice. Emma perked up a little at this. Mommy never sounded defeated, simply because it was impossible to defeat her. "But I still don't like it. She's only four."

Her daddy, noticing that Emma was beginning to wake up and pout, put on a goofy smile and said, "Five, honey, Mommy means to say that you're a strong five year-old _who can handle this_." The last four words were obviously aimed at her mommy.

"Good," Emma replied as she raised her fist and tried to rub the sleepy out her eyes. Her dream-self always ended up having hazy vision, and she was determined to not let that happen this time. She wanted to see everything that happens; this dream may be interesting.

Now they were walking down a darkened hallway, her parents on either side of her. She remembered them using their phones to open a door and, in their words, "disable security cameras." Emma looked up at her daddy and studied him carefully. He was wearing a black shirt, black pants, black combat boots, and black gloves. Over his shirt was a vest that held various objects she was too young to identify, but she noticed a holster attached to his belt and began to form a vague idea of what may be inside. She noticed his curly, brown hair and smiled at a memory of when he said that he grew it out so if he ever got lost, people could easily identify her as his kid and return him to her. She had always thought it would go the other way around. Emma looked over at her mommy and saw she was dressed similarly, holster and all, only her blonde, curled hair was wrapped up into a loose bun. Emma also noticed the way they were acting and moving. They both looked around cautiously, with focused looks in their eyes, and their hands hovering over their holster. They almost look like spies, Emma thought to herself. She giggled. Mommy and Daddy aren't spies!

Sarah noticed her daughter giggling and smiled, a strange, sentimental feeling rising in her chest. Ever since the accident, Sarah took Emma's moments of pure innocence more importantly than before. She wondered what the child was thinking right now. Hopefully she thought this whole thing was just a dream, or else this would be very tough to explain in the morning. Emma does have a very creative imagination, so it wouldn't be too hard to believe. Maybe Sarah should take her to do something fun tomorrow, like to the Wavehouse (she had been asking to ride the rollercoaster, since she believes she's old enough now), or down the Hollywood Walk-of-Fame (as horribly tacky and frightening as the random strangers dressed as famous characters were, Emma always thought they were the real person, and she loved having her picture taken), or maybe to the beach (Chuck had been wanting to teach her how to surf)- anything, as long as it got Emma's mind off of the "dream" and made her forget about it, hopefully forever.

Sarah was drawn out of her thoughts as she heard Chuck ask about their latest obstacle. "What do you think, take the stairs up the fourteen stories or risk the elevator?"

"Chuck," Sarah began tiredly, "the stairs. Have you learned nothing from your past ten years of _experience_?"

"I know, I know, I just thought, since we have Emma and all…" He trailed off as he caught sight of the look on her face. "Okay, the stairs, let's go."

It was ten times more exhausting than Chuck thought it would be. His three years of "retirement" had left him totally unprepared for raiding a fully-guarded CIA base, but so did Emma's sudden accident. If he thought the hardest part of tonight would be the stairs, then he was sorely mistaken.

"Alright Princess, I hope you enjoyed your little pony-back ride. Now get off so Daddy can stretch." He crouched down as Emma slid off of his back, and then stood up quickly. Blackness spotted his vision as a sickening pop registered in his ears. His hand flew to his spine as he crouched back down. "Oh God! My back!"

"Chuck, Honey, are you okay?" Sarah asked as she soothingly rubbed his obviously aching back.

"Peachy," He gasped. "Common gang, we got a mission to accomplish." With that, he waddled down the hall, crouched over and hand on his back. Sarah rolled her eyes while Emma laughed with obvious amusement.

As they walked, Chuck straightened up with one fluid motion, but kept his hand in place. It still hurt badly, and he should defiantly consult with a chiropractor, but Chuck knew he wasn't going to get anywhere if he kept up that ridiculous walk. He frowned at what happened. He didn't think he was at that age yet. It seemed only yesterday that he was chasing criminals on rooftops and making daring leaps from one building to another. Now, his back breaks every time he stands up. Lovely. It's not as if he's surprised, he knew he'd have to get old eventually, but now? Is that what his life has come to? Are the exciting, life-risking days over? He looked down at Emma and smiled. They may be, but his new days are much better. Chuck knew that as much as he missed being the American Hero, he always has the memories, and he couldn't have asked for a better retirement.

Chuck's thoughts were interrupted when the trio came upon a heavy door at the end of the hallway. Sarah quickly scoped out and disabled the security cameras while Chuck inspected the identification pad.

"Do you think they'd reject our code? I mean, it's only been, like, seven years, so…" Chuck trailed off, knowing his argument wouldn't be enough.

Sarah looked up at her husband with partial amusement and partial impatience. "Yes Chuck, I think they'll reject our code."

"Well, then maybe we should use, you know…" He jerked his head towards where Emma was sitting on the floor, playing with her fingernails.

"_Absolutely not_!" Sarah hissed back.

"Oh come on!" Chuck whisper-shouted with exaggerated arm motions. "It's the whole reason we brought her!"

"We brought her so we could get that _thing _out of her head! Not so we could use her! She's only five, she's not a sp-" Sarah was cut off by the sound of shoes squeaking against a freshly-polished floor. Ice poured across her veins, and her eyes immediately darted to the direction of the sound. _Someone was coming_.

Oh God, oh God, oh God, Sarah chanted to herself as she bent down to sweep up Emma. With one hand clamped firmly over her daughter's mouth, she sprinted over to the first door she saw, a janitor's closet, with Chuck close on her heels. Peering closely around the dimly-lit closet, she saw a rack against the wall opposite the door. There was an open space in between the floor and rack, and she quickly wiggled into the cavity with Emma still held tight in her arms. She looked up and saw Chuck up against a corner. A second later, he vanished behind a rack of emergency suits. And not a moment too soon, for the footsteps had stopped in front of the door.

Sarah silently cursed as she held Emma tighter against her chest. "Baby," She whispered softly into her ear, "I'm really, really gonna need you to not make a sound until that man leaves, okay? Can you do that for Mommy and Daddy?"

Emma looked up at her mommy. This seems like one of those situations when children of her age would disobey out of spite. But Emma was a good kid, and she could tell from the pleading look in her mom's eyes that this was something she really needed her to do. Emma nodded twice and buried her head into her mommy's neck. Sarah smiled. She had a good kid.

The sound of a door crashing against the wall and a sudden light that blinded Sarah quickly drew her out of her thoughts. A pair of feet slowly dragged into the room with some sort of four-wheeled bucket behind them. Sarah realized this must be the janitor. In one stealthy, Sarah-like move, she rolled Emma over her stomach so that she was facing the wall and Emma could block her daughter from sight. She then turned her attention back to the situation.

At this point the feet had stopped right in front of her, so close she only had to stretch her fingers an inch to touch them. She looked over at the corner to see that Chuck was still well-concealed behind the suits. The only thing that stood out was his exposed feet, but they were aligned with the shoes set in a row beneath the safety suits. Sarah smiled. It was almost comical, her husband's hiding place. Suddenly, the janitor knelt down to fiddle with the lower shelf, and Sarah receded back until she was almost squishing Emma against the wall. She wondered what Emma has been thinking about all of this.

Emma didn't like her situation. This was the part of the dream where her vision got especially bad and blurred and she couldn't see anything or what was going on. It seemed different this time. It almost feels like how her vision gets blurry when she's extra tired, or when she's been in the dark and someone turns the light on. What makes it worse is that now she's hiding. Emma hates hiding in her dreams, no matter what she does or how well she hides herself she's always found. And she doesn't want to hide! She wants to keep running around and doing things. She wants to know what's behind that big metal door. Emma wiggled a bit in anticipation. It's time to get this dream going.

Sarah held on to her daughter and rubbed her back to calm her down. Emma was getting restless, not that she could blame her. It was frustrating, getting trapped like this. It was painfully obvious that Chuck and Sarah had been out of the spy game for a while; all they've managed to do was expose their five year-old daughter to a life they never wanted her to live and get cornered in a janitor's closet. Sarah had known it would be hard to jump back in, but she didn't think they'd be making this many amateur mistakes. If she was five years younger, she would have knocked the janitor out, stolen his passkey, and slipped into the room to retrieve what they came here for, all while Chuck was gaping at her with that same fondness in his eyes. Sarah switched from rubbing Emma's back to finger-combing her curly brown hair. She didn't think it would have been so easy to go from International Spy to Soccer Mom. This was proof that those days were obviously behind.

Chuck started as the footsteps passed dangerously close to his hiding place. He pressed his back as far against the wall as possible. Please leave, please leave, please leave, Chuck prayed silently to himself. And just like that, the lights turned off, the footsteps retreated, and the door closed. "Oh yes!" Chuck whispered silently to himself.

Sarah wiggled out from under the shelves, Emma behind her, sprinted over to give Chuck a hug. "Are you okay? He didn't see you did he?"

"Please, Sarah, no!" Chuck replied with an 'isn't it obvious?' look on his face. "I gotta know, why didn't you grab his passkey though? He was right there!"

Sarah froze. Why didn't she grab the passkey? "I… I uh… I didn't want to risk exposing my location! We have Emma with us; we have to be more careful!" Yeah, that's a good excuse, he'll buy that.

"Sure, okay Sarah." Chuck replied with a grin. "Well we need to go, I gotta get to bed if I'm gonna wake up at five in the morning for work." He stopped when he heard himself. God, he has grown up.

"How are we going to get through the door?" Sarah asked as they exited the closet and checked the hallway.

"Let me try this." Chuck replied as he pulled out his phone and hooked it up to keypad. Sarah tried to keep up but failed as he rapidly punched in codes and opened new windows. Her heart sunk to her stomach when the red "Access Denied" banner flashed across the screen. Her panic rose as a timer starting from sixty seconds started to count down.

"What is that?" Sarah asked frantically.

"Dammit," Chuck said softly as he punched in new codes. "We only have sixty seconds to enter the correct password, there's no way to hack into this one."

"What'll happen in sixty- well, now fifty seconds?" Sarah asked, dreading the answer.

"An alarm will sound and guards will be here within the new minute." Ice poured over Sarah's veins as she looked desperately at Emma. Chuck shared her gaze. "I think it's time."

Sarah looked back down at Emma. Did she really want to expose her baby like that? Make her use that horrible curse?

"_Thirty seconds_."

"Come here Baby, Mommy needs you!" Sarah cried as she pushed Emma in front of the keypad. "Just, look here."

Emma looked at the keypad and immediately froze. Her eyes fluttered and her vision was replaced with images. _A butterfly, a rock, a pencil, 384920485_. She started as the keypad materialized in front of her. Before she could stop herself, her hand reached up and slowly entered the numbers. 3…8…4…9…2…0…4…8…5. A click echoed down the hallway and the door flew open.

"Well done honey!" Chuck shouted as he swooped down to kiss his daughter's forehead before sprinting into the room. "Sarah, stay there!"

Emma was dazed. What just happened? That's never happened to her in a dream before! "Mommy?"

"Yes, Baby?" Sarah asked as she knelt down to her daughter's eye-level.

"Mommy, what happened?"

"Uh, well…" Where to start? Sarah mused. She was saved by the sound of the metal door slamming shut. "Oh my gosh, Chuck?"

"Sarah, go!" She heard her husband's muffled cries from inside the room.

"I'm not leaving you! I'll get you out!"

"Sarah, we have Emma with us. You need to go, I'll be okay!"

"But… but Chuck-"

"Go!"

The sound of footsteps pounding against the tiled floor kept her from shouting back. As much as Sarah hated to admit it, she had to go. "I'll come back for you. Come on Emma."

This was the running part of the dream. The part that Emma was never good at. She either was never fast enough, or she was too fast and she'd run past her destination, or she just couldn't run. Luckily, she had her mommy with her. Her mommy kept Emma's legs moving and her urgency to run very much alive. She had never seen her mommy panic, and still hasn't, but this was the closest she came. Sarah had this look of both desperation and determination in her eye, and from the way she kept stealing glances at her daughter to make sure she was keeping up, Emma knew this wasn't the time to ask questions or fall behind.

Soon, she heard shouts and footsteps behind her. Emma quickly peeked over her shoulder, then snapped her head forward and applied more energy to her legs. There were approximately ten "bad guys", clad in black, chasing after them. Emma checked behind her again. They had guns.

Her breathing hitched, and she began to panic. She never dreamed off guns before, and she never wanted to again. Normally, Emma would try to wake herself up, but she was too interested to end it now. She resorted to the one person she knew would save her.

"Mommy!"

Sarah looked down and quickly swung Emma off the ground and into her arms. She staggered a bit, and after adjusting to Emma's weight she tried to get back into the rhythm of running for dear life. And her daughter's life. Shouts of "stop!" and "halt!" registered in Sarah's ears but she didn't dare stop. She could sense that they were growing impatient with her non-response; her suspicion proved true as the sound of bullets pierced the air. Emma screamed and covered her ears with her hands, but Sarah didn't dare react. The door was just a few short feet away. It was bullet-proof, and unless guards had come by, which it looked like they didn't, their device should still be there. All she had to do was make it through the door and lock it, and they'd be home-free to the van. Just a few short feet…

Suddenly, one command hit straight through her walls and almost caused her to stop; "We have your accomplice!" …Almost. Sarah knew they had Chuck, and she would never forgive herself for it, but now her main priority was Emma. Responding with only a look over her shoulder, Sarah ran through the door and dropped Emma safely on the ground. She then spun on her heel, closed the door, and smashed the "Reset" button on the code panel. It would take them at least five minutes to open the door.

Using the time, Sarah quickly scooped Emma back in her arms and ran the rest of the way to the van. Emma remembered her mom climbing into the driver's seat and tossing her in the passenger's seat. She took a quick look around; no one seemed to be coming, but her mommy didn't look satisfied.

"Emma, sit on the floor, underneath the dash." Her mommy ordered, and with that, Emma's view of the outside world was cut-off as she obeyed. She felt the car lurch forward, and thought she heard distinct shouting, but the noise quickly faded as they continued their journey. Emma wondered what was going to happen next, what other adventures she'd take with her parents, if she would remember this remarkable dream when she woke up. However, as the ride continued, and Emma remained in the darkness, she felt a considerable heaviness on her eyelids. After all, she had been running a lot. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if she closed her eyes, for just a second…

Light filtered into Emma's second-story bedroom, and birds pierced the once-quiet morning. Her fists pawed at the sleep in her eye, and she slowly sat up in her bed. Once her eyes were cleared and her sight was returned, Emma looked over at her clock. Nine o'clock. Emma quickly jumped out of bed and padded down the steps to the living room. She missed her six o'clock cartoons! What did she do that made her so tired as to sleep in so late? She never sleeps in! As Emma rounded the banister and prepared to jump on the couch, remote already in hand, she stopped herself as she saw her mommy asleep on the couch.

Her mommy wasn't wearing the black outfit from her dream; instead she was in her normal dark blue-patterned pajama pants and "I Heart L.A." T-shirt. Her cell-phone was clutched in one hand, and a tissue in another. Deciding not to bother her obviously-distressed mother, Emma settled on the floor and turned on the television.

The day went on as normal, except that her daddy wasn't here. When Emma asked her mommy, she said Daddy was on an "emergency business trip" and wouldn't be back for a couple of days. Emma ended up spending two nights at Uncle Morgan and Aunt Alex's house, and when she came home her daddy was waiting for her. He started asking her weird questions, like "Have you had any headaches?" or "Have you had 'visions'?" or "Do you know things, and don't know where you learned them from?" For some reason, she thought back to that dream she had. That was the only time something like that had happened. Emma told him about the dream she had, and he seemed to think for a while.

"Emma, I know how to keep those dreams from happening again." Chuck finally said.

"How, Daddy?" Emma asked. Her dream was really interesting, but it scared her. It scared her a lot.

"Well, I got these pills from an old friend of mine. It won't take the dreams completely away, but it'll repress them." He explained as he held up a small orange tube of pills.

"How long would I have to take these?" Emma wondered.

"For the rest of your life, Baby," Chuck answered sadly as he rubbed his daughter's back. "Or, until I can find a better solution."

"Daddy?" Emma said as she fingered the bottle. Pills were medicine. Medicine is something sick people take. Sick people had something wrong with them. "Am I sick? Is there something wrong with me?"

"No! No, Baby, you're…" Chuck trailed off as he thought of the right words. Suddenly, a grin broke his face and he brought his daughter in for a hug. "You're special."

**I'm so sorry if there are typos, I just don't have time to proof-read it and I really want to post it tonight. If you see anything that needs to be fixed, let me know and I'll revise it! Please, please, please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ermagerd, Emma versers The Famery Secert! Sorry, just noticed the mistake; I'll change the title now. So, I don't know if anyone is still reading this, especially since it's been over a month (holy crap, a month?!) since I updated, but you know… life. Anyway, this is a bit of a boring, filler chapter, and I'm sorry (the dullness is probably why I had such a hard time writing this), but it should pick up soon. And even if I don't get a lot of reviews or alerts, it doesn't really matter because I know people are reading and I am just so in love with this idea that I am happy to be publishing this! And I've gotten into a better routine with homework/work/orchestra/debate so I might have more time to write this… might. Also I didn't have much time to proof read this, I just wanted to post it so I am so sorry for any mistakes. Anyway, happy reading!**

**Disclaimer: Sigh, I don't earn Chuck or its characters.**

Emma Bartowski could hear each breath she took echo in her clouded ears. She willed her legs to run faster, to take her away from this horrid place, away from her pursuer. Finally, the door ahead registered in her overworked and tired brain, and if she wasn't so terrified Emma probably would have jumped for joy. The door, something she once saw as a beacon, a symbol for her eventual freedom, was dulled in glory when she realized it would only be another obstacle for her to overcome. Try as hard as she did, Emma never could figure out the code; why would now, when her life was in jeopardy, be an exception? Upon realization of this depressing fact, she felt a hysterical shriek build in her throat, which she forced down. Despite her hysteria and mind-numbing horror, Emma knew better than to show weakness, even in the form of a shriek. Yet as Emma reached the door and turned desperately on the handle, she did allow herself a small cry that came out in the form of a squeak while throwing her head back to look up, frantic for an answer. The door would not budge. As the footsteps grew closer, Emma realized something: _You could die_. Yet at the same time, she realized something ultimately more important.

Emma didn't want to die.

To make matters worse, she felt a strange pounding in her head. This one was unlike the pains she had felt the past couple of days, this one felt more like the headaches she had as a child that warned her of what her parents had taken to referring to as "episodes." Oh no, she thought as she stared fixated at the control panel for the door, not here, not now. Emma clutched her head as the pain grew worse, and she found herself unable to remove her gaze from the panel. And yet, through all that was happening, Emma was still able to cast her mind to the past, which she could because she was at the point where her "life flashed before her eyes." Yet it didn't start at the beginning of her life. It started- how long has she been here? Hours? Days? Weeks?- at the moment she felt started this entire, life-changing (potentially ending) experience…

o O o

"_In breaking news, there has been a prison break from an isolated penitentiary in northern Nevada. The country has been advised to keep their local police number handy, take extra security measures, and keep a weathered eye for the escaped inmate, who has been identified as D-"_

Emma's hand shot out from under the warmth of her bed covered to silence her alarm clock. She cracked one eye open to looked at the weather hologram located over her bedside table and observe today's forecast. One cloud expected in the sky. She closed her eye and nestled against her pillow. The weather will be too crappy; she can't be expected to live her normal routine today, especially this early. As she rubbed the dried crust from her eyes and slowly lifted herself away from her covers, Emma attempted to recollect what she had to do today.

_Shower_

_Make sure all homework is finished_

_Check work schedule_

_Pick up Marty_

_Go to school_-

Emma stopped her mental plans as she realized the what-should-have-been obvious- she graduated yesterday.

Unbelieving, she looked around her room. A black robe was thrown carelessly over her desk chair; a matching cap on the floor. There was a small stack of papers and folders on her desk. Her backpack was already stuffed, forgotten, underneath her table. She looked over at her clock- the date read June 15, 2031. Her invitation for her high school graduation lay on her table; the date was June 14, 2031.

Emma let out a sigh of relief and brought her hands to her head, a smile breaking her face. She was done. She graduated. She could sleep in.

Elated, Emma fell back on her pillow and prepared herself for well-deserved rest. It was over- no more AP classes, senior finals, college applications, paperwork, stress over grades- all of it. The worries and stresses- oh the stress!- of high school will no longer be her problem. Now she was free, she was a high school graduate, and an adult.

It was a liberating thought. She was so close to freedom; to moving out, going to college, making her own future. She loved her parents, and her family (both by relation and extension), her home, her life- but it was time for her to start her own life, one she made herself, and get out of Burbank and away from her almost-too-loving family. That new life started this summer, which will be completely dedicated to her summer job. After all, she needed money to eat and pay dues while she was at college. Emma lazily rolled her head to the direction of the clock. 6:45. Four hours until she had to be a work.

Her mind drifted back to her graduation party last night. It took place in the courtyard of Uncle Morgan's and Uncle Casey's courtyard- where else would it have been? Aunt Alex had decorated the courtyard beautifully, with twinkling lights, banners, and music. She also opened up the house for food and drinks. The party itself was amazing. Everybody was there- even Aunt Ellie, Uncle Awesome, Stephen, and Claire, who had taken the day off from Chicago Medical School to see her cousin graduate. The party had also been opened to two other families; those of her best friends, Shannon and John. Jobs of the festivities had been split between the three families: Emma's family hosted and supplied decorations, Shannon's brought food, and John's brought drinks and provided extra chairs. Along with her two friends, other classmates and friends had found themselves in the courtyard last night after polite dinners or small celebrations with their families.

It had been a great night. The food was amazing, her family was awesome and non-embarrassing, and she got to dance to her heart's content. She remembered Uncle Morgan beating a friend named Derek in an "epic" videogame battle, Shannon challenging John to a "dance-off", and friends jokingly calling John a homosexual when he won and him kissing Emma full on the mouth to prove them wrong. Not that the kiss was a big deal, he had kissed her before for comedy and she learned when she was sixteen that they would never be anything more than best friends. Emma also remembered her parents presenting her with a charm bracelet as a graduation gift. She looked over to her bedside table and fingered a charm; a computer mouse. Emma smirked at what it symbolized: her obsession with computers and software.

As she continued to run her finger along the smooth surface, Emma realized that she wasn't exactly tired, and maybe she won't get to sleep in this morning. Accepting defeat, she threw off her covers and slowly rose from her bed, her feet dangling over the carpet. After some stretches and a yawn, her feet completed their descent to the floor and carried her over to her closet, where her high school hoodie was hanging. After donning the hoodie and throwing her hair up in a quick bun, Emma made her way down stairs where she knew her mom and dad were watching news and preparing for work.

To her surprise, her mom was still in her bathrobe, her graying blond curls hung unprofessionally in her face, a coffee cup clutched in her hand, and a hard, unreadable expression on her face. Her dad was still in his pajamas instead of his suit and tie and leaning against the kitchen counter, gripping the edges so tightly his knuckles were turning white. He looked angry. Their attention was fixated on the television. Before Emma could ask what was going on she registered the smell of burnt eggs on the stove and realized her dad had been making an omelet before he got distracted. Quickly, she turned off the burner, dumped the pan in the sink, and turned on the water, watching as a cloud of steam rose in the air. She turned around; hoping to get a glimpse of what was the television only to find it had already gone to a commercial break.

"Chuck," Her mom said silently, Sarah's eyes still fixed on the television despite the commercial for dog food that was currently playing.

"I know, Sarah." Her dad replied, almost shortly.

"You guys?" Emma asked hesitantly.

Chuck's head snapped in her direction, and upon seeing his daughter his eyes softened a little. "Oh, Emma. Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"What's going on?" She asked, gesturing towards the television.

"Oh, nothing, nothing just an interesting news story, that's all." He replied unconvincingly, constantly darting his eyes back to the screen.

"Okay," Emma replied hesitantly.

He looked back over to her, as if noticing Emma for the first time. "Sweetie, what are you doing up so early?"

She shrugged meekly and began scraping the omelet off the pan. "Couldn't sleep. Besides, I have plans to meet up with Shannon and John for breakfast before I go to work."

"Work." Chuck repeated, an almost concerned look in his eye.

"Baby, why don't you take off work today?" Sarah asked suddenly. She noted the surprise and suspicion in Emma's eyes and decided to elaborate. "I mean this is your first day of being officially done from grade school, do you honestly want to spend it working?"

"If I want to have enough money to afford my way through Stanford, yeah." Emma replied nonchalantly. Chuck flinched, an action not unnoticed by Emma. "Are you two okay, you're acting kind of strange."

Sarah released a breath and placed her coffee cup on the counter, then walked over to Emma and gave her a side hug. "We're fine honey, we just can't believe you're already graduated! It feels like yesterday you were just born-"

"-or crawling-" Chuck added.

"-or walking-"

"-talking-"

"-taking your first tae kwon do class-"

"-hacking your first computer-"

"Okay, guys, I get it!" Emma said with a laugh.

Chuck's smile lingered a little longer as he gave Emma a hug as well. "So when were you planning to meet with your friends?"

Emma set down the pan and looked over at the clock. 7:00. "Um, I think around eight so I have enough time to get to work."

Sarah paled slightly and looked back over at the television. "Are you're sure you don't want to take today off? I was thinking, maybe we should go on a vacation somewhere, like Boston, or Florida, and I've actually always wanted to see North Carolina!"

"Yeah!" Chuck said, almost too enthusiastically. "They have the pretty farmland, and NASCAR, and beaches… and stuff."

Emma looked back over at her parents as she unwrapped a granola bar to settle her stomach before breakfast. "Are you sure you guys are alright?"

Sarah gave a forced smile and nodded, "Yeah, yeah we're fine. I just thought it would be a good idea to take a family vacation before you went off to Stanford, that's all."

"Okay," Emma replied, unconvinced as she edged her way to the stairs. "Well, I'm going to go get dressed." As she bounded up the stairs she paused slightly at the top, hoping to maybe catch a hint of their conversation that was certain to come.

"Sarah, we-" Chuck was interrupted by Sarah's outstretched hand, a clear signal for silence. Her eyes were trained on the stairs. After a few more seconds of waiting, she heard a slight sigh, the sound of pressure being released from a squeaky board, and footsteps walking towards, and then shutting, the bathroom door. Chuck looked at her in disbelief. Sarah allowed herself a small smile. "I still got it. Let's talk in the bedroom."

Emma knew her parents, or at least her mom, had been listening, and, with the release of a disappointed sigh, decided to give up on her fruitless mission and get ready for the day. She shifted her weight forward and flinched at the sound of the squeaking board- if they hadn't heard her before they definitely heard her now. She headed over to the bathroom to brush her teeth and take a quick shower.

As she rinsed the suds out of her hair Emma can't help but think back on her parent's strange behavior. They were normally ready for work by seven, which was the first thing she noticed. Second, what had been on the news that was so damn interesting? Thirdly, since when has her mom wanted her to stay home from work? Or take a random, unplanned vacation to North Carolina? Weren't they the ones who told her to get a job in the first place, and who opposed all last minute plans?

These questions and more ran through her mind as she stepped into her room and choose an outfit. Emma settled on some black jeggings, a white and patterned camisole, and a purple jacket. After tying her black Converse on her feet, she made her way over to her mirror and applied some basic makeup. She then finger-combed her naturally curled brown hair and grabbed her keys and wallet.

"Bye Mom, bye Dad," She called as she made her way to her door, happy to see her parents were also dressed and apparently ready for work.

"Hey Emma," Sarah called behind her. Emma stopped and looked at her parents. "Just… just be careful, and don't forget to let us know where you are."

"Okay," Emma replied, giving one last glance back at her parents. Deciding to save her suspicions for later, she got in her car and made her way to the bakery on the corner of the Burbank shopping center. Shannon already had their customary café table outside, and Emma quickly made her way over after parking in the already half-filled parking lot.

"Emma, hey!" Shannon called over as she stood up and swiped at a piece of her long, brown hair that had been in her face. Emma gave her friend a hug and took her usual seat across from Shannon, leaving a seat in the middle for John.

"Where's Johnny-boy?" Emma asked after she ordered a muffin and cup of water.

"He may be a little late." Shannon answered with a nonchalant hand-wave. "I don't blame him; after last night, waking up this early almost felt like a crime of nature."

"Yeah, I was gonna postpone it when I woke up this morning, but then I couldn't get back to sleep and I just figured 'why not?'" Emma responded. "Hey, I have a question."

"Shoot."

"Was there some, like, really serious or breaking news story on this morning? Because whatever it was, it really freaked my parents out." Emma explained, twirling the ice in her cup around with her straw.

"Um, I think there was a story about a prison break and some puppy convention, but that's all I heard." Shannon replied with a bite of her pastry; a strawberry croissant it looked like.

"Prison break…" Emma repeated. Could it be… no, her family doesn't know anybody who's in prison. Especially one who would break out and come after them. It was a stupid, childish thought; one for bad sitcoms, or soap operas.

Or was it?

**Bad, cheesy ending. I can almost hear the dramatic organ now. As I said, hopefully it should pick up soon! And now…**

**Reviews:**

**phnxgrl- Thanks for your review and encouragement!**

**batty02- Haha thanks! As you can from the update time, I have some changes to make!**

**deanandjo4ever1- I hate when people ask questions that won't have answers until the end of the story because then I feel compelled to answer them now! The one question I can answer is that Morgan and Casey weren't involve in the mission because Chuck and Sarah didn't want a lot of people, if any, to know they accidentally gave their five-year old the Intersect, because then what kind of parents would they be?**

**KryptonitePoison- Oh how I've missed you! :D Again, a lot, actually next to all, of those questions won't be answered until the end but I can tell you that they did not trade Chuck for Sarah and yes I did think of the pills by myself. Thanks for your review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I've managed to update within the month! :D I'm really proud of myself! So, yeah this is another "filler"-type chapter, but a lot of important details, events, and characters are introduced, so hopefully you guys might find this work the wait. **

**Also, Happy Thanksgiving! Let's not forget to take a moment to be thankful for being an American (the purpose of Thanksgiving in the first place) as well as life, health, family, friends, etc. Hope you guys enjoy your holiday!**

**Disclaimer: I suppose I can say I own this chapter, considering that little-to-know Chuck references are made (sorry! Don't kill me!), but just in case, I own nothing.**

He was running, running so hard he felt as if his heart was about to burst out of his chest. _You've gotten too old for this_, that irritating voice in the back of his head chided, but he paid it no heed. Motivated now by spite for the voice (combined with the muffled shouts behind him), he pressed on, jumping over falling trees, crunching leaves, slipping on loose stone; never stopping until he reached the side of the road ahead of him. He doubled over, breathing hard through his mouth and trying hard not to pass out, when he was alerted by the reflection of car lights on the pavement. Cursing lowly, he jumped behind a bush, praying that the car lights don't pick up the reflection from his orange suit.

Apparently they did, because he soon heard the tires squeal to a stop. His breath caught in his throat and he tried to stay as steal as comfortable. Suddenly, a sound pierced the still night. Three notes, each lower than the other, played for a quarter beat before stopping. Puzzled, he perked his ear in hope the sound will be played again. It soon was, and he recognized the sound as someone whistling a B, A, and G (in that order). Licking his dry lips, he responded with an F, E, D, and C; the first two notes a dotted quarter then eighth note, the last quarter notes. He smiled upon hearing a lone G in return; it had been a while since he's used the signal with his friend.

"That you, man?" One called. He stood and dusted off his orange suit, flashing a smile as he grasped hands with his old colleague.

"Yeah, thanks for picking me up." He replied as he jumped in the back of the van, immediately picking out his change of clothes.

"No problem! It's been a while since I've had some action!" He exclaimed gleefully as he jumped in the front seat and threw the car into drive. "So, what's next?"

He was already dressed and climbing over the seat with a laptop in hand. After a few pass codes and minor hacking, he found his way in the file mainframe. His eyes lit up and smile returned as he scanned over one particular name and workplace.

"I was thinking about getting some pizza."

o O o

"Hey girl!" Allison called out from behind the bar as Emma entered the restaurant for her eleven a.m. to nine p.m. shift.

"Hey Allison," Emma replied as she swiftly made her way behind the bar to clock in on an electric keypad. She further busied herself by checking her future schedule and making sure she was clocking enough hours to get by comfortably at Stanford for at least the first two years. So entranced was she by the calendar that Emma let out a small squeak of surprise as she felt herself being attacked by the strong arms of her work friend.

"So? Welcome to the club of graduates! How does it feel to no longer be a kid?" Allison asked enthusiastically. Smiling, Emma brought one hand up over her friend's hold and swiped the screen back to the home page before turning to face Allison. Young, energetic, and three and a half years her senior, Allison was the older sister Emma never had. Ever since she started her job as a hostess at sixteen and waitress at eighteen (the legal age to serve alcohol) at the family-friendly pizza joint called Pizza Port, Allison had been there to train her, right her wrongs, and turn any bad day upside down with just her smile. Emma smiled and grasped her friend's arm gratefully, knowing already she was going to miss her terribly when fall semester started.

"Amazing," She replied with a worn-out smile. "I can't believe it's already over!"

"Yeah, well that's what happens," Allison replied with a knowing look. She suddenly embraced Emma in another hug and squealed in her ear. "I can't believe you're already graduated! I feel like it was only yesterday that you were an awkward little sophomore crying over a cup of milk you had spilt on some lady's shoes!" Emma's ears and face burned bright red at the memory of the incident that left her feeling guilty and paranoid of termination for weeks. "I'm going to miss you so much!"

"I'm going to miss you too." Emma replied, her voice choking up slightly. She shook her head and pulled away, making sure Tony, their manager, hasn't seen them slacking off at work. "But I'm not leaving yet, we still have all of summer!"

"Then let's make it count."

"Starting now, when you two lovely ladies _get back to work_." Emma flinched at the sound of Tony's voice from behind them and immediately straightened.

"Yes sir," She said as she gathered her things and checked her dining room assignments. Section three. Typical. As she hurried to the back of the kitchen to hang her coat and purse on her designated hook, she heard Tony awkwardly shuffle up behind her. She turned around to face her forty-three year old, Latin-American manager and boss with a smile. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to congratulate you on your graduation. God-knows this country can use any educated citizen it can get." Tony said, extending a hand.

"Thank you, sir," Emma replied, returning his handshake and internally laughing at his words. He looked at her a moment longer before giving a curt nod and scuttling off. She allowed herself a small laugh before washing her hands and heading back out to the dining room. Already the lunch rush was beginning to be seated, and Emma put on her "uniform" (an apron over her street clothes), pulled out a pad and pen, and got to work.

As she went from table to table- promoting specials, delivering drinks, giving suggestions, explaining ingredients, and professionally balancing trays of hot pizza to various tables- she thought back on how much this restaurant has changed. She remembered her father coming home in an excited frenzy about how a Pizza Port had opened the next town over when she was nine, and tasting the most amazing pizza she had ever tasted that fated Tuesday night. Back then, it was poorly organized, and she liked it that way. Instead of individual tables, there were long rows of tables and benches put together to form columns. Tables were at a first-come first-serve basis, and you had to wait in a line and walk up to a counter to order a pizza. It was annoying, unorganized, and all part of the experience. Then again, if they hadn't turned themselves into a more tradition restaurant, she would be out of work.

Finally, there was a lull in the crowd, as there always was at three in the afternoon, and Emma was in the back assisting with the dishes. As she pushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear, reminding herself to put it back in her loosened ponytail later, Emma scrubbed vigorously on a dried grease stain and occasionally jerked her head up to look back into the dining room. After seeing her friend repeat this look five times in the same half-minute, Allison sauntered to the back to confront her, knowing fully well what this was about.

"Not here yet?" Allison asked knowingly as she picked up a dish and assisted in the scrubbing.

Emma's cheeks tinged slightly as she put more focus on her plate than was necessary. "I don't know what you're talking about." She mumbled.

Allison gave a dramatic eye roll and placed her dish in the sink. "You know _damn _well what I'm talking about."

Emma's head snapped up as she placed her sink in the dish as well. Standing straight now, Emma placed a hand on her hip for better effect and opened her mouth… only to realize she had nothing to say. She stared off in the distance, trying think of some sort of rebuttal, but came up short. Deciding to take the high road, Emma took up her dish and continued her scrubbing. Allison rolled her eyes again before they settled on the dining room… and lit up at the sole occupant.

"I bet _he _knows what I'm talking about." Allison whispers before walking out behind the bar to make it look like the place was still open; not that _he _needed to know that.

Emma drops her plate as her head snaps up, then let out a low curse as she inspected the plate for any fresh cracks. Finding none, she retreated to the back of the kitchen and fixed her hair then brushed off any food or other debris on her outfit before entering the dining room. His dark thick hair hung limply over his face, his black leather jacket was hung over the back of his chair, and his muscular arms were crossed over his sarcastic shirt-covered chest as he read the menu. Emma smiled, knowing all too well what he was going to get. Writing his order of a medium pizza with a pepperoni and pepper topping on a sheet of paper and sending it to the kitchen, Emma fumbled in the cooler for two bottles of root beer before walking up to his table with a smile on her face.

"Hey stranger," Emma said casually, already made at herself for using such an over-used opening.

Drew Roberts looked up and grinned, letting free the butterflies previously caged in her stomach. "Hey Emma," he replied deeply, giving the butterflies access through her chest and up her throat.

Clearing her throat, Emma set down the bottles of root beer and pushed one towards him. "I put in the usual order, I hope that was alright."

"It's fine," He said, leaning back in his chair. "Sit down?"

Emma sat without any hesitation, knowing that Tony was in his office paying bills and yelling at his sister-in-law over the phone, as he always does at three o'clock. "So, how are things with you and your mom?" Emma asked before taking a swig of her soda; the first refreshment she's had since the beginning of her shift.

"Better," He replied with a nonchalant shrug and fingered the side of his bottle. Drew looked up and, after being met with Emma's knowing gaze, smiled and sat up straighter. "She, uh, screamed at me about being un-disciplined and draining her resources, the usual crap. I just can't wait to be finished with my online classes, but even then it'll be a while before I can get a job with my degree and make enough money to rent an apartment, so it looks like I'm kinda stuck here for awhile."

"I'm sorry," Emma said softly. "What happened to your other job."

Drew gave her a sheepish smile and went back to finger the design on the side of the bottle. "I was, um, fired. This old lady came in and started making all of these ridiculous demands, then she complained to my manager. You know I don't put up with that kind of stuff."

"Maybe you should look for a different kind of job," Emma replied with a laugh in her voice.

"Like what?"

"I don't know, tattoo parlor? Mechanic? Bounty hunter?" She suggested, laughing.

He laughed too, then asked, "Is that what you think of me?"

She knew better than to take the bait, and looked him straight in the eye before saying, "Oh yeah. I think you're tough as nails, kid."

"Kid?" He repeated with a smile. "Ems, may I remind you who the high school graduate is? The man over here who is a full four years older than you!"

"And may I remind _you _that I graduated high school yesterday?" Emma replied, the same smile in her voice.

Drew's smile slowly faded into a look of horror and then shame. "I, uh, I knew that." He said softly. "Dammit, Ems I'm sorry, I totally knew that, honestly."

"Hey, hey it's okay, it's no big deal!" She said honestly. He visibly relaxed, and Emma decided to poke some more fun at him. "You know, it's just… high school graduation."

"Damn, I know," Drew replied, obviously agitated as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I know, and I'm so sorry!"

"I was only kidding!" Emma said soothingly, regretting her attempt at humor. "As I said, it's no big deal."

"But it is, Ems!" He exclaimed as he suddenly grabbed her hand. Surprised by his gesture, all she could do was stare in mute curiosity. "I mean, you're done! You're no longer tied here in Burbank, you're free to go to college, to have the experience, to move far away. You're free."

Emma looked curiously at Drew. She knew he longed to get out; that he was tired of his mom issues and reputation and just wanted to leave and have a fresh start. Suddenly, she wished she could take him with her to Stanford, like how Shannon and John were still hoping for a late acceptance before starting classes in the state college. Then after Stanford, they could travel, experience new things, leave everything behind without a second thought.

"Hey," She whispered softly as she squeezed his hand. "What if we just left? Got in a car, drove around the country? See mountains, deserts, plains, the east coast? Eat in small-town diners? Sleep under the stars?"

Drew looked at her with an unreadable expression before breaking out in a slow smile and meeting her gaze with a twinkle in his eye. "Sounds like it would be the best vacation ever."

"Um, excuse me?" Emma heard a rude voice behind her. She turned to see an overly-done-up mom with an obvious fear of old age staring down at her judgmentally. "_Sorry _to interrupt, but I was wondering when we were going to get some service around here?"

Emma looked at her watch. Half an hour had gone by without her noticing. "I'm sorry," She said softly to Drew before standing up. Putting on her "perky, costumer" voice, Emma followed the mom back to her table, babbling on about how sorry she is and how wonderful the weather has been while Allison placed Drew's pizza, usually shared with Emma, on his table. He watched her work as he ate slowly, admiring the way she reversed the woman's horrid attitudes and interacted with the children. As the restaurant filled up more and the time pushed after four, Drew decided he had overstated his welcome as he stood, dropped a twenty on the table for tip, and paid his bill.

Just as he was downing the last of his root beer, he saw a man enter the restaurant. For some reason Drew felt uneasy about him. The man was at the end of middle age, as obvious from his graying hair, and seemed very jumpy and nervous as he scanned the rapidly forming crowd. Drew noticed the man's gaze settle on Emma, and his concern grew as he appeared to be digging through his shirt pocket.

Fully alarmed now, Drew attempted to push through the crowd in an attempt to tackle the man, but found he was too late as he watched him

draw a gun,

release the safety,

and point it straight at Emma's head.

**Kinda cliché formatting, but I really wanted to emphasis the turn of events. Please review, I know some of you guys weren't so keen on a "second-generation" story, so I'd like to know if I had some sort of audience. Thanks!**

**Review Replies:**

**shortpinoyguy- Thank you! Hope I didn't disappoint!**

**phnxgrl- Thanks! I tried to make it obvious, but not too obvious that Chuck and Sarah were somewhat distressed about **_**something **_**;) **


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